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By Robin Adams
Do YOU have a First Time Story? We think you do. Email it to Cindy and we'll publish it!



When last call rang out, I was seated alone at the bar, wearing someone else's wedding dress, mud caked white pumps, and probably a nervous smile. That's how "My First Time" ended. Maybe I should go back a few hours earlier, to when I was pushed out of the security of my lonely closet and ventured forth into the world for the very first time.

It was 1988 and I several weeks earlier I attended my first meeting with the River City Gender Alliance. I went in "drab" and was really nervous about meeting other members of the transgender community. One of the girls there, Holly, helped calm me down and offered to help me with clothes and make up sometime. It took a few weeks to find the courage to call her but then, before I knew it, we had agreed to get together on a Saturday afternoon.

All I expected was for Holly to help me get dressed, show me a few makeup tips, and then maybe settle in for a quiet afternoon of girl talk. I had no intention of going out dressed that day, it never even crossed my mind. Instead, Holly informed me that if we were going through all the trouble of getting dressed, we were going out, "No if, ands, or buts".

"No Way! I'm staying right here! I'm not ready for that yet! I just can't do it." Is exactly what I wanted to say but for some reason it came out sounding terribly similar to "Sure, sounds great!".

Holly was able to find just enough usable make up in my little cosmetics bag to help me look somewhat presentable, well, at least I didn't look like Drew Carey's nemesis, Mimi. The clothes were another story. Even though I had brought along my best outfits, they were severely out of style. My wardrobe then consisted of only hastily purchased Thrift Shop rejects in unusual colors and sizes. Holly informed me that other than a pair of white pumps, nothing of mine was really nice enough for a night out on the town, or even to the bar where we were headed. Then, with a devilish grin, she told me what I was going to wear.

"A Wedding Gown! You must be kidding!" I choked. "Can't I just wear my purple poodle skirt and halter top?" It wasn't really a wedding gown per se. A few years earlier, Holly's S.O. had been married while wearing this odd, white, knee length dress, much more suitable for some kind of warped Easter Parade than a trip down the isle. It had huge puffy satin sleeves and more lace and frills than a TV-Maid catalog. Worst of all, it was an extremely bright white, easily visible to the naked eyes of aliens in far distant galaxies.

"Hey Mlarf, what's that bright light up there in the sky, a meteor?" some Plutonian would say.

"Nah, one of those darn earthlings must be wearing that wedding dress again, Focep. Hey, I think it's a crossdresser this time. Lets call Jerry Springer and tell him about it!"

I tried it on and sadly, it fit perfectly.

But when I looked at myself in the mirror and was amazed! There, staring back at me was a beautiful young woman, kind of a cross between Gillian Anderson and that girl on The Weather Channel ... hold it, reality check time. Even then I wasn't about to kid myself. What I really saw staring back at me was a nervous looking guy wearing a goofy white dress. Still, it was the best I had ever looked. Anyway, Holly readied herself while I admired my new look in the mirror. Soon she was ready to go and I was too scared to move. It had just set in that we were actually going outside. I was terrified.

"Come on, you look just fine." Holly said as she shoved me out the door onto the back stairway. "Oh, I forgot to tell you, I didn't fill up my car with gas today. You will have to drive."

"Huh!" I said. "I can't drive in heels, I can't even walk down these stairs in heels and now you expect me to drive? How do I shift gears in these?"

"Then I'll drive and you can fill up my car at the gas station." she replied. I grudgingly dug out my keys.

Did I mention it had been raining all day? The parking lot was now a sea of mud. No time to worry about what the neighbors thought of two T-girls splashing around outside. It was tough enough just to navigate through the muddy mess without loosing a shoe let alone have to think about the neighbors, or about illuminating half the city with my dress or trying to figure out how to drive a stick while wearing heels. Somehow we made it to my little truck and then to the bar without any further problems or fender benders. We went inside.

Certain that everyone at there was either staring or laughing at me, I locked myself onto one of the barstools and tried to think tiny thoughts. I was far too nervous to move or talk. I should not have worried because there were a number of other crossdressers in the crowd. One even came by and said I looked great. This made me feel much better until I noticed that she told everyone she met that evening the same thing, including a coat and, I think, a Margarita. Eventually, I ended up getting over some of my trepidation's and even took a quick stroll around the dance floor. Everyone made way for the girl in the glowing white dress which was a good thing, as I had yet to master walking in heels.

A couple short hours later, it was time to leave. We ended up back at Holly's to change into male form and, more importantly for me, to get out of that hideous dress.

Ok, so it was far from a perfect night. I came closer to passing out than to passing! Mud covered my only decent pair of shoes, I had a run in my hose and I got soaked in the rain. But I did it! I actually went out in the real world for a couple of hours...and I lived to tell about it! Now, ten years later and several dress sizes larger, it is still fun to go out but I have a much different perspective.

I no longer get a thrill out of hearing my heels clicking on the sidewalk or seeing my feminine shadow stretched out ahead of me. Instead, I have discovered the real fun of going out is being with my friends. Sharing a story, a laugh or a tear, a hug and maybe even a game of pool with those I care for and who accept me far outweighs any auditory, visual, or physical sensation of walking around in a skirt and heels or just dressing up alone. Had not been for Holly dragging me out that first time, I never would have found one of the true joys of being transgendered. With all my heart, Thank you Holly...but you can keep that old white dress.

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